Girls' Night at the Hog's Head
by Very Small Prophet
Summary: Sixth-year girls of all four houses get together for their traditional night of contests, drink, and unspoken secrets. SSHG, though Sev himself does not appear until the Epilogue. Later chapters rated T for sexual humor.
1. The Nerds' Duel

**Girls' Night at the Hog's Head**

_In attendance:  
Gryffindor: Lavender Brown, Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil  
Hufflepuff: Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Megan Jones, Sally-Anne Perks  
Ravenclaw: Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, Morag McDougal, Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin  
Slytherin: Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson_

**Chapter 1: The Nerds' Duel**

"Hear ye, hear ye!" Millicent Bulstrode sang out in a mezzo that could have carried to the back of the Royal Opera House. "Girls' Night at the Hog's Head is officially called to order, Toastmistress Pansy Parkinson presiding."

The shrieks and laughter of over a dozen sixth-year girls filled the cramped pub, and Aberforth considered the utility of earplugs. He hated these regular gatherings of NEWT-level girls, despite the good liquor sales. Eight times a year, four with the sixth-years and four with the seventh-years. Thank Merlin the boys had no such custom. The serious drinking hadn't begun yet, and three empty bottles of ice-vodka had already been removed from the table.

Pansy Parkinson stood up and raised her shot glass. "Welcome friends and foes, to an evening of games, gossip, and spirits. We begin our activities with a salute to the hostesses of our last meeting, Hufflepuff House, Hogwarts' own working class." She downed her drink.

"All power to the People." Sally-Anne Perks said mildly. Hermione—who, unlike most of the girls present, had actually heard of Marxism—raised her fist in salute, a private joke between the two Muggleborns.

"Secondly, a toast to our beloved rivals, the lionesses of the Scottish moors, whom we pity for having the dorkiest boys in all Hogwarts—"

"Well, she's got that right," said Hermione.

"—Gryffindor House!"

They all drank, Pansy already swaying just slightly. As hostesses the Slytherins had arrived early, and Pansy had gotten a good head start on her vodka. Millie had been more moderate and was careful to move their gaming supplies—particularly the magical microphone and two glass jars filled with scraps of parchment—out of the way of Pansy's wide-swinging arm.

"And most important—importantly—your hostesses for this evening—"

"Hey, you forgot us," Mandy Brocklehurst yelled. "Ravenclaw's next!"

"—Slytherin House!" Pansy knocked back her drink while the other Slytherin girls shouted "Slytherin!"

Over the laughter, Lavender Brown called out, "The sneakiest, slimiest—"

"Sexiest—" Daphne Greengrass interjected

"But not the smartest!" Padma Patil added.

They all broke into giggles, and Pansy tried to recover from her blunder. "That leads us to our third—fourth—toast…" Millie got out another bottle. "…to the biggest nerds in all Hogwarts, Ravenclaw!"

"What?" cried the Ravenclaws. "Yes!" shouted everyone else.

Parvati Patil waved both hands for attention. "No, no, no. Everyone knows the biggest nerd in Hogwarts is Hermione Granger."

Hermione gave a mock bow from her chair. She was aware—and quite proud—that her nickname in the House of Eagles was "The Lost Ravenclaw." She was _not_ aware that since last year's incident with Marietta Edgecombe the House of Snakes had begun calling her "Godric's Serpent."

Millie leaned forward and refilled Hermione's glass. "Take another shot, nerd," she said, leering slightly. They didn't call her Millicent Bulldyke for nothing.

Hermione winked at Millie and reached for the glass, but Su Li stretched a hand across the table, forestalling her. "No Gryffindor ever beat a Ravenclaw for nerdiness."

"Except Hermione," said Parvati.

Padma asked, "So why didn't the Sorting Hat put her in Ravenclaw with the rest of us?"

"Actually, the Hat told me why," Hermione said. "It said I'd study hard and use my brains in any house, but Gryffindor would bring out characteristics that I wouldn't develop otherwise."

"Gryffindor guts and Ravenclaw brains," said Lavender smugly. "So keep your hands off the glass, Su."

Su and Hermione continued to hold the glass on the table unmoving, each trying to stare the other down.

"I think we have our first contest," Pansy broke in. As Mistress of Ceremonies it was her job to keep things running smoothly. "Millie, take possession of that shot glass. Li, Granger, you get to ask each other questions. The first one to stump her opponent gets the shot."

"Don't leave it wide open," said Daphne. "They'll be at it forever. Make it quotations. The philosophy of magic."

"All right, quotations then. Ravenclaw goes first."

Hermione turned to Pansy. "She goes first? Why?"

"No arguing with the learned judge," Millie proclaimed. "You can run the meeting when Gryffindor hosts. Tonight Pansy's the boss."

The brief exchange had given Su plenty of time to come up with her first challenge. "Ban al-Greb on magical logic," She demanded.

"_The best magic always results from ecstasies of logic._" Hermione flashed her usual superior smirk. "One of my favorite quotations, actually."

Parvati Patil echoed the smirk and snapped her fingers at her Ravenclaw twin Padma, despite the fact that she didn't know Ban al-Greb from Gilderoy Lockheart.

"Phillipa Eden-Potts on sharpness of wit." came Hermione's challenge.

Su hesitated for a few seconds, then answered, "_The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper._"

"Yes!" the Ravenclaws exclaimed. Padma gave her sister a two-finger salute.

Su didn't let it distract her. She thought for a long moment, then said. "Ko Li on magical errors."

Ko Li! This was getting tough. Hermione didn't know the Chinese magicians nearly as well as she felt she should. The Ravenclaws—and Slytherins!—were practically slavering in anticipation of her defeat as she sat there unspeaking.

"Ready to give up, Granger?" Pansy snickered.

"Oh, wait," Hermione began hesitantly. "_Magic is one of the… subtlest and most difficult of the arts—the_ sciences _and the arts. There is more…opportunity_—" Her voice became more confident as she remembered the rest of the quotation "—_for errors of comprehension, judgment and practice than in any other branch of physics._"

She then returned to her normal lecturing voice, "Except magic isn't physics, really. The standard translation of Ko Li is widely recognized as unreliable."

"We win again!" Lavender crowed, while Parvati made rude gestures. No sneers of _know-it-all_ now. Hermione hadn't gotten this much support from her two dorm-mates in her entire six years at Hogwarts.

Hermione realized that Su now knew her weakness and would probably be hitting her with more Chinese quotations. It was time to get ruthless. She gave her rival a calculating look, trying to remember if Su was half- or pureblood. _Fullblood but not pureblood_, she thought. _Like Harry_. She leaned back in her chair and smirked. "Arthur C. Clarke on technology."

Sally-Anne slapped her hands together and burst out, "Ha! Arthur C. Clarke!"

"Arthur who?" Su gaped. The rest of the girls stared at one another in confusion.

"You ought to know this, Su," Hermione said condescendingly. "Don't you have Muggle grandparents?"

"Wait a minute…" Light was beginning to dawn on Tracey Davis's face.

Pansy broke in, "No help from half-bloods, Trace."

They all waited while Su visibly searched her memory. Arthur C. Clarke? There had once been a wizarding family of Clarkes in Somerset, but they were known for producing Quidditch players, not scholars. And technology? _Muggle_ technology? Gran and Grandpa Wang weren't here to ask.

Finally Pansy asked, "Concede, Li?"

Su hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Concede." She gave Hermione a wry salute as Lavender and Parvati high-fived each other.

With a nod to Su, Hermione stood, raising the disputed drink. "Arthur C. Clarke, science fiction writer extraordinaire, said—" She looked over at Sally-Anne. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Sally-Anne filled her own glass and rose, grinning almost as broadly as Hermione. "_Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic._"

"To high technology," Hermione said.

"To science fiction," Sally-Anne answered.

The two clicked glasses and tossed off their drinks.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_All quotations are real.  
Ban al-Greb = Alban Berg  
Phillipa Eden-Potts = Eden Phillpotts  
Ko Li = Aleister Crowley_

_The distinction between pureblood and fullblood is my own. A pureblood is a descendant of two magical families, like Draco. A fullblood is the child of two magical parents, like Harry. In the canon Harry never seems to count as pureblood, even though he is born of magical parents and would have been reared in a wizarding household had they lived. I posit that the former Miss Wang, Su Li's mother, was Muggleborn._

_Hermione's nickname "The Lost Ravenclaw" I borrowed from Excessivelyperky, but "Godric's Serpent" is my own idea. Hermione would make a superb Slytherin._

_Yank Alert: I do my best, but I fear my language is irredeemably American. I apologize to all natives of the British Isles for my many barbarisms. I humbly strive to correct them when I can. __Americanism must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure._


	2. Look but Do Not Shag

Chapter 2: Look but Do Not Shag

Pansy tapped her glass with a knife, addressing the whole group as they quieted. "You all know how it works," she announced. "Everyone answers the same question and everyone takes a drink after answering." She cleared her throat. "Our first question of the evening: What really sexy boy—"

"Or girl!" Millie Bulstrode and Susan Bones shouted together.

"Or girl," Pansy added "would you never, ever go to bed with, and why."

"That's easy," said Hermione. "Draco Malfoy."

"Even easier, Harry Potter," Daphne Greengrass shot back, her eyes glinting.

"So, Daph," Pansy said briskly, "what's hot about Potter and why would you never shag him?"

"He's unique. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Destined Destroyer of the Dark Lord, Savior of the Wizarding World. The ultimate trophy." She swallowed her drink. "Nice bum, too."

"To Harry Potter's bum," cried Hannah Abbot. They all laughed, and drank another round. Millie signaled Aberforth for more vodka.

"And you'd never actually sleep with him because..."

"He's Harry Potter, Savior of the bloody Wizarding World, heroic Gryffindor do-gooder, beautiful blue-eyed ("Green-eyed," said Hermione under her breath.) twit!"

"With a nice bum," said Hannah Abbot.

"With a nice bum," Daphne agreed. "Takes himself too seriously. Probably never had a kinky thought in his life." She looked questioningly at the three Gryffindors.

"Don't ask me," said Lavender. "I don't think Ron ever has, but—"

"Absolutely Ron never has," said Hermione with more emphasis than she intended. A few girls snickered. "But Harry—" She tilted her head, tapping her index finger to her lips. "I don't know. Harry can be strange sometimes. I wouldn't put it past him."

"And how would you go about seducing him, Daph?" Pansy asked.

"Seducing him?"

"That was supposed to be part of the original question."

"All right, then. Seducing Harry Potter." She paused, thinking. "I'd hire some actors to dress up as Death Eaters. They'd kidnap me and threaten to Cruciate me if I didn't tell them everything I know about—"

"About Harry's bum." said Hannah.

"Abbot, what is this fixation you have with Potter's behind? It's nice enough but doesn't come close to Malfoy's _or_ Zabini's. Anyway, the Boy With the Bum gets all guilty because everything in the world involving Death Eaters is his fault, and he comes to my rescue." She paused again, then added, "Riding a dragon."

"Not his Firebolt?" Mandy asked. She was a Ravenclaw Chaser.

"A dragon. Hungarian Horntail," said Daphne. "It's sexier."

Hermione said, "You know, I think that would actually work."

"Granger!" Pansy shifted focus. She tried to look threatening and didn't quite make it. "So. Draco Malfoy. _My_ boyfriend."

"Whom I'd never touch—"

"Except with a good right jab," Megan Jones said. The Hufflepuff girl's long-standing interest in hand-to-hand combat belied her House's reputation for mildness.

"It was a right cross," Hermione corrected her. She thought for a moment. "Let's see, why is Malfoy sexy? He has a nice enough body—and yes, a better behind than Harry's." She nodded at Daphne. "Keeps in shape. Slender: I really like that."

"Not tall, though," said Mandy

"I don't go for tall, necessarily. It's nice to have someone I can reach."

Mandy said, "A Seeker's body."

Hermione thought for another moment, still not certain. "It's not so much his body, though. Have you ever noticed Draco's hands?" she asked. "Those long pale fingers? I've watched him in Potions, preparing the ingredients. He can do a lot with those hands." Her tone was quietly reflective.

Pansy said angrily, "Those hands aren't coming anywhere near you, mu—Granger. They belong to me."

Hermione lifted her eyebrows at the Slytherin girl. She knew what Pansy had just avoided saying, but decided it wasn't worth breaking the Girls' Night Truce. She settled for asking, "Does he have anything else that's long and slender, Parkinson?"

Pansy scowled and said nothing. Hermione went on, "But what I really like is that he's smart. He'd be brilliant if he'd just put some work into it instead of getting by on his name and connections. He and I have been playing Smartest Girl versus Smartest Boy in Potions ever since first year."

"Why don't you want to sleep with him, then?" Daphne asked.

"You mean besides the fact that he's bent?"

Pansy shouted, "He is not!"

Susan said, "Hey, Parkinson, Hannah's not the only one who's always watching Harry's—"

"Draco is not gay!"

Hermione ignored the argument, "Anyway, the real reason I won't shag Malfoy is that damned smug arrogance of his. If he had any idea what a turn-off that is to a woman with even the slightest bit of intelligence..."

Pansy thought she'd been insulted but was not quite certain.

Su Li asked, "So how would you seduce him?"

Hermione smiled and swallowed her drink. "Tie him to the bedposts, spread-eagled. With silk scarves."

"Silk scarves!" Daphne sounded as if she wished she'd thought of it herself.

"I don't want to damage that beautiful skin with ropes, so I'll use scarves. Scarves in Gryffindor colors."

Millie hooted with laughter, but Pansy was outraged. "Slytherins are always on top!"

Daphne and Tracey looked at each other. Tracey made a gesture conceding the floor, and Daphne raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "Don't be absurd, Pans," she said.

Sally-Anne agreed. "Really, Parkinson! _All_ Slytherins? I have personal experience with Adrian Pucey, and—"

"And I have personal experience with Draco Malboy—_Malfoy!_—and he's always dominant, in everything. Everyone knows that. He works at it all the time."

"Works a sight too hard if you ask me," said Hermione. "He struggles, you can see it. He wants to be like his father, controlling and terrorizing everyone, but he doesn't have what it takes. He can't do it and it's driving him crazy."

"She's right, you know," said Millie. Some of the other girls nodded.

"It must be exhausting for him. I think if he could just allow himself to drop the whole dominance act, he'd really like to have someone else take over for a while. He could relax and enjoy himself, because he wouldn't have anything to live up to."

Lavender gave Hermione a questioning look.

"If you're not in charge you can't fail. Seriously, I think he'd love it."

"You should mention it to Potter," Daphne said, with surprising sincerity.

Pansy looked angry, but made no comment. She'd never been known for her quick wit, and her state of drunkenness was keeping her about two steps behind the conversation. "Ravenclaw's turn," she said grimly. "Lisa—"

"I'll be brief," Lisa Turpin declared. "Gregory Goyle."

"Goyle!" Several voices cried at once.

Lisa shrugged. "I like big guys."

"But he's an idiot," Padma objected.

"That's why I'd never actually do him." She downed her shot. "No psychoanalysis needed. And no seduction, either. With a bloke like Goyle, you just ask." They all laughed. "Or better yet, tell him. 'Greg!'" she barked like a drill sergeant, "'Trousers off! Lie down, on the bed. Now!'" The laughter became general hysteria.

"Hannah," Pansy said when it quieted down a bit. It was Hufflepuff's turn next, and she was not certain her tongue could wrap itself round Susan Bones's name at the moment. "And if you say Harry Potter—"

"But he's cute!" Hannah actually giggled; Susan rolled her eyes. "It's not that I'm interested in a big hero on a dragon." Hannah glanced at Daphne. "Or a trophy to wear on my arm. Harry's sweet, and, you know, vulnerable."

"Vulnerable!" Parvati exclaimed. "He's fought You-Know-Who. Face to face. More than once."

"Yes, but he's not very good at it, is he? From what I've heard, he never really seems to know what he's doing. Sometimes I think he's getting worse at it rather than better. He needs someone to take care of him."

"So you think Potter is needs babying and you obsess over his bum," said Daphne, smoothly taking over from Pansy who was busy refilling her glass. "Why will you never bed him?"

Hannah drank down her vodka. "Mothering your emotionally scarred boyfriend is a nice enough fantasy, but it sucks in real life. I had enough of that with Zabini."

Tracey's eyes opened wide. "Blaise is emotionally scarred?"

"Having half a dozen different step-fathers before you're sixteen is not healthy. Believe me," she said firmly, "you don't want to hear about it."

"So we're back to Slytherin House," Daphne announced. "Tracey, will you—"

"Millie." Pansy said emphatically, standing up as steadily as she could.

Daphne backed down without a word, but Hermione thought her expression would have done her Head of House proud.

Pansy went blithely on, addressing Millie: "Hot girl you'll never shag."

Millie looked down and mumbled.

Pansy demanded, "What was that, Bulldyke?"

Millie gazed into her drink. "Hermione Granger." Her voice was nearly inaudible; she blushed furiously.

"Really?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows lifting in genuine surprise. Millie nodded, still red-faced.

"I mean, well—" Millie clearly wished she hadn't spoken. "I've had a kind of a crush on McGonagall forever. And Hermione, well, she sort of reminds me of her. You know, smart and tough." Hesitantly she looked at Hermione directly. "Except you're prettier." She turned her eyes away and drank her shot.

It took Hermione a moment to remember to close her mouth. Then she said, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Still not looking up, Millie smiled slightly.

Pansy barreled ahead. "Any why will you never sleep with—"

Hermione and Daphne spoke simultaneously: "I don't think—" "Drop it, Pans—"

Ignoring them, Millie said, "Because I'm too dumb."

There was another moment of silence, then everyone started objecting at once.

"Hey!" Susan reached across the table and put her hand on Millie's. "You're not dumb. You and Zabini are the only ones in your House taking sixth-year Arithmancy."

Millie mumbled, "I like numbers."

Lisa added, "Anyway, you don't have to be all brainy to get laid."

"I think brains get in the way sometimes." Hermione tried not to sound as awkward as she felt. "I mean, look at me. The biggest know-it-all in Gryffindor House and who do I get? Ron Weasley!"

"Come on, Granger," said Daphne with a wicked look. "Weasley isn't _really_ the best you've ever done, is he? And I'm not talking about Viktor Krum here."

Hermione pointedly continued to speak to Millie, "We should do Arithmancy homework together sometime."

Millie she looked up and asked, "Really? How much do you know about Muggle probability theory?"

All the Ravenclaws burst out laughing.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Millie Bulstrode, lesbian math geek. She and Hermione never do study together, but in a classic example of Slytherin opportunism she "pinions" (JKR's word) Hermione against the wall of Umbridge's office in Order of the Phoenix. This incident did not inspire my take on Bulstrode, but in the time-honored tradition of fanfic authors, I choose to interpret it as I will. In the time-honored tradition of fanfic readers, you may disagree._

_Although fanon Snape is usually tall, canon Snape seems to be of average height. For a man in the UK, this is about 5'9". I assume Hermione is also average, about 5'4"._


	3. Not Viktor Krum

**Chapter 3: Not Viktor Krum**

"Really? You fancy their Keeper?" Mandy said. "I thought you'd go for Gwennog Jones."

"With her hair?" said Susan. "Please!"

"Hey, Susan, you might know this," said Mandy. "Is it true all the Harpies are lesbians?"

There were groans from most of the table, and Susan looked exasperated. "That old rumor? Of course not! Their Seeker and one of their Chasers are as straight as you are."

"Which isn't saying much," Su Li added under her breath.

"Hermione!" Pansy moved along, covering Su's comment. "Sexiest professional Quiddich player."

"Do we really need to ask?" Lavender rolled her eyes.

Daphne added, "We already know she likes the dark, brooding type."

"It's not Viktor!" Hermione cut in quickly. "Aidan Lynch. I saw him at the World Cup." She picked him largely to avoid naming Krum. She didn't follow professional Quidditch closely enough to have an opinion about its sexiest players, but she knew Lynch's name and vaguely recalled him as well-tanned with light brown hair and a toothy grin. _Dark, brooding type indeed!_

"Seekers' bodies," Mandy said knowingly, throwing a drunken arm round Morag, Ravenclaw's new Seeker, who sat next to her.

Morag grimaced and pushed Mandy away. "So how did you end up with a pea-pole—I mean beanpole—like Weasley?"

"Yes," Lavender said waspishly. "What is it with you and Ron? He's not _that_ good at snogging."

"Well, first of all I haven't 'ended up' with anyone. We've just dated occasionally." Several girls looked skeptical. "He really _isn't_ that good."

"Lacks imagination?" Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Or do you prefer older men?"

Millie elbowed a glassy-eyed Pansy to move on to the next participant. Hermione simply downed her drink.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_For those concerned with student/teacher carryings-on, bear in mind that Hermione's birthday is in late September, so she is seventeen and technically an adult through almost all of her sixth year. I know, it's still not quite legit, but it's not as bad as it might be._

_If Hermione had come from a wizarding family that could plan for Hogwarts ahead of time, her parents almost certainly would have recognized her giftedness and arranged for her to start school in 1990 instead of 1991. Being the youngest in her year instead of the oldest would have challenged her, thereby reducing her snootiness and keeping her from dominating her classes so thoroughly._

Chapter Four: Karaoke Night_ is being completely re-written and won't be up for a week. My apologies. As the Severus Snape of our glorious English language I hate posting a weak chapter as much as our beloved Sev hates producing a weak potion._


	4. Karaoke Night

**Chapter 4: Karaoke Night**

"Now we come to the musical part of tonight's entertainment," Pansy announced. Aberforth checked to be sure all his goats were out of the pub and safe from the traumatizing experiences to come. "Millie, you're in charge of this."

Millie stood, holding up the magical microphone. "Each performer—one from each House—has already given me her sheet music and I've downloaded it to the microphone."

Sally-Anne called out, "Oi, Bulldyke, why's a pureblood like you using a muggle word like 'download,' anyway?"

"It's what I did. I downloaded it," said Millie stolidly. "I don't care where the word comes from." She returned to her explanation. "You activate the mike by stroking it with your wand, and it will provide a piano accompaniment."

"Piano?" Megan exclaimed. "I thought we'd have a band."

"This is the basic version. You want a band, you have to pay extra—in advance."

"That's so like a band," Megan grumbled under her breath.

"Since you're complaining, we'll start out with you." Millie passed the microphone to Megan. "One song in honor of Hufflepuff House."

"Hasn't Slytherin been going first for everything else?" Hermione asked.

Tracey said, "Well, this time the Puffs go first."

Megan took one more drink, then stood away from the table as the other girls shifted their seats to form an audience. A quick stroke of Megan's wand and the microphone began to play a lively martial air, and Megan sang in a bold, true contralto voice:

_Helga help the foes of Hufflepuff!  
They're trembling at the feet of mighty Hufflepuff.  
The Badger Brood excels  
For none can break our spells;  
It's harder to push us over the line t__han pass the Dardanelles.__  
_

_Enduring are the hearts of Hufflepuff,  
Faithful friends together with our heads held high,  
And o'er the land  
Our loyal band  
Will sing the glory of Hufflepuff forever._

Everyone laughed and applauded as Megan took her bow—all but Pansy, who demanded, "What in Merlin's name are the _Dardan…an…what_?"

"The Dardanelles," said Hermione, not even trying to keep the _know-it-all _tone out of her voice.

Padma asked, "Where did the original song come from?"

"It's some school song from…Canada?" Megan looked questioningly at Sally-Anne.

"The States, actually," Sally-Anne answered. "I found it on the Internet over the hols."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. If the song could be found on the Internet it was _not_ from a magical school. She hadn't realized Sally-Anne had such a wicked sense of humor, giving the unsuspecting Megan a muggle song to work with. It was almost Slytherin-worthy.

"The bit about the Dardanelles was in the original," Megan said. "I'm not sure what it means."

"Doesn't matter," said Daphne. "Next up is…" She turned toward Millie.

"Ravenclaw." Millie handed the microphone to Mandy Brocklehurst.

Mandy fiddled with the mike, looking less confident than her Hufflepuff counterpart. "Well, mine is based on _The Snidget and the Phoenix_." As an afterthought she explained to the muggleborns, "It's a traditional wizarding comic ballad. The birds are changed round so it's about the Ravenclaw Eagle instead of a phoenix." She ran her wand along the mike and it produced the introductory bars of what sounded to Hermione like an ordinary English folk song.

As Hermione listened she found the song no more than mildly amusing. The purebloods were enthusiastic, but as it ended Hermione noticed Sally-Anne was giving it only polite applause. Apparently one needed to know the original to appreciate the humor.

Lavender was next to take the microphone. She had been secretive about her work, and neither Hermione nor Parvati knew what she had written except that it was about Professor McGonagall. As Lavender activated the microphone, Hermione—and several others, including Aberforth—smiled merely from hearing the opening bars.

_I am the Captain of the Gryffindors,  
And a lion-like captain, too.  
I'm very, very good, and be it understood,  
I command a courageous crew.  
_

_In my tartan uniform I can magically transform  
And change most any shape.  
Whether as a tabby cat or in my witch's hat,  
I'm never, never scared of Snape.  
_

Without prompting, Hermione, Parvati, and a few others called out: _What, never?_

_No, never!_ Lavender sang in reply.

All the Slytherins joined this time, at top volume: _What, NEVER?_

Lavender spoke the answer just as emphatically: _Absolutely never!_

_So give three cheers and one cheer more  
To the fearless Captain of the Gryffindors…  
_

Hermione winced at the singular rhymed with a plural. Would it have been that hard to make it _Give three cheers and three big roars?_ And Lav really should have used the original "Well, hardly ever!" punchline. You don't try to improve on Gilbert and Sullivan when you don't entirely get the joke in the first place. As she listened to Lavender's less-than-flawless imitation Hermione imagined that, somewhere in the afterlife, the spirit of W.S. Gilbert was pitching a fit worthy of an enraged Potions Master.

At last Lavender's mangled lyric came to an end and she was rewarded with smiles and applause.

"And at last, for our grand finale—" Millie passed the mike to Tracey with a flourish, "Tracey Davis, the dancing diva of Slytherin House!"

Millie waved her wand and all the empty bottles and spilled liquor on the table Vanished, and the glasses moved back to leave a large clear space. Tracey hopped up on her chair, stepped to the center of the table, and Hermione suddenly realized why Slytherin had been saved for last.

A quick swish of her wand and Tracey's plain school robes became a full flapper outfit, glittering with green sequins and rows of silver fringe. She wore a green garter above her knee and on her magically bobbed hair was a headband with a tall green feather. The music started and she began belting out the lyrics.

_Five foot two,  
Eyes of blue,  
A little tongue that darts at you.  
Has anybody seen my snake?  
_

When Tracey started to shimmy Aberforth's eyes nearly fell out of his head. The elderly veiled witch in the corner—the only other occupant of the pub—choked on her firewhiskey.

_Green and black,  
Loves to snack,  
If she bites you just bite her back.  
Has anybody seen my snake?  
_

The girls were all hooting and clapping in time to the music. Tracey ratcheted up her dancing a couple of notches. She was not flat-chested enough for a proper flapper, and the jiggling was becoming truly remarkable.

_If you should run into a five-foot-two  
Covered with scales,  
Needle teeth, pale beneath,  
That's my snake in all details.  
_

_But could she hiss,  
Could she kiss,  
Could she this ophid'an miss.  
Has anybody seen my snake?_

Tracey twirled and bowed and blew kisses to her audience, finishing with a kiss blown directly at Aberforth. To the sound of cheers and applause she jumped nimbly off the table, but some of the purebloods from the other Houses looked a bit stunned.

Hannah managed a choked laugh, "Only a half-blood would have the nerve to create a song making fun of the You-Know-Who's familiar."

"Who said anything about the Dark Lord's familiar?" Tracey's tone was cool as she Transfigured her costume and hair back to its usual appearance. "It's about our House mascot, that's all."

Hermione doubted Tracey's song was quite as innocent as she claimed. "Davis, I think you were missorted." she said with a smile. "You should have been a Gryffindor."

"There's no need to get nasty, Granger," Tracey smirked, and downed her drink.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_The song Sally-Anne found on the Internet (though I'm not sure if she could have found it on the Web of early 1997) is_ Bow Down to Washington. _Written__ by Lester Wilson in 1915, __it is the official fight song of the University of Washington in Seattle, of which my mother and I are both alumnae. I love the contemporary reference to the Dardanelles campaign._

_In 1878 Gilbert and Sullivan created the comic opera_ H.M.S. Pinafore _from which the original of Lavender Brown's song derives. When I write I always imagine the spirit of WSG glaring over my shoulder insisting, "That's not good enough. Keep working until you get it right." Lavender, alas, was deaf to Gilbert's demands, and did not get it right._

_Tracey Davis's song is based on _Five Foot Two (Has Anybody Seen My Gal?), _words by Sam Lewis and Joe Young, music by Ray Henderson. I wrote this ophidian pastiche many years ago._

___Ten points to your house if you can identify the elderly witch wearing a veil. Fifty points to your House if you can identify the allusion to a _second_ Gilbert and Sullivan opera._


	5. First Crush

**Chapter 5: First Crush**

Pansy stood up, swaying dangerously. They were all pretty far gone by now, but Pansy was clearly the drunkest of the lot. Still, she forged ahead. "Next, confessh…essions of childhood foolisshness. Your first crush on a teacher."

Pansy swung round to face her assistant. "Millie!" she said abruptly. "You go first."

"We all know this one," said Mandy.

"Yes, yes, it's McGonagall," Millie said. "At her very first class, when that cat jumped off the desk and turned into her, I was just knocked out." She downed her drink. "I worked so hard to get into NEWT-level Transfiguration, but I'll never be an Animagus like her. I don't have the knack."

"Wait a minute," said Lavender. "Your very first class? You already knew you liked women when you were eleven?"

"Hell, I knew when I was eight!" Millie gave a sharp laugh. "Susan, you weren't sure until your fourth or fifth year, were you?"

"Fourth year," Susan said. She sighed and looked a bit dreamy-eyed. "Fleur Delacour."

Daphne broke in, "Let's not get off-topic." She turned to Parvati, "Patil, your first crush on a teacher."

Parvati looked embarrassed and began to mumble, "I, um, you know…was barely twelve…"

Padma leaned back in her chair with arms crossed, looking smug. "If you don't tell, I will."

"Uhhh…"

"Gilderoy—"

"Padma!"

"—Lockheart!"

Everyone laughed, though many were blushing as badly as Parvati.

"Practically everyone here was bloody insane over him!" Parvati gestured angrily, including the whole table. "Even you supposedly brilliant Ravenclaws! Even Hermione!"

Hermione stood up, moving a bit to stand between the sisters. "Oh, I've been stupid about men, I admit it. Lockheart, Ron…" She looked toward Pansy; as Mistress of Ceremonies Pansy should be keeping the meeting under control, but her attention was wandering. Hermione's eyes shifted to Daphne.

Daphne caught her glance and turned to her fellow Slytherins. "Millie, Tracey, let's pour a round for everyone. We'll all drink to stupidity with men. And from now on, no one has to admit to crushing on Flockheart." The Slytherins began re-filling glasses, and soon everyone was cheerful again.

"We need a Ravenclaw," Daphne said, moving the meeting along much more briskly than Pansy had done. It was nearing curfew, and Girls' Night was merely a tolerated tradition, not an official Hogwarts event. "McDougal?"

"Well, my first crush wasn't an official teacher," Morag said. "He was a cousin of mine, who started teaching me Quidditch when I was seven. He was about sixteen, and I thought he was a god." She sighed drunkenly. "Blond hair, beautiful tan." She knocked back her drink. "Covered with acne and had no chin, but I didn't notice that at the time."

"You didn't notice acne?" Lavender asked.

"It was Quidditch. Who pays attention to little things like pimples when there's Quidditch to play?"

As they all laughed, Daphne turned toward the Hufflepuffs. "So, Megan, what about you?"

"Well, I don't know if it was exactly a crush," said Megan, "But I liked Professor Lupin."

"The _werewolf?!_" Hannah exclaimed.

"We didn't know he was a werewolf until the end of the year. And he was fine. He took Wolfsbane Potion every month."

"When he remembered," Hermione muttered to herself.

Megan didn't notice the interjection. "And I enjoyed his classes. I learned a lot. He's the only decent Defence teacher we've ever had."

The temperature seemed to drop as Megan found herself at the receiving end of a collective Slytherin glare. "I mean—until this year, of course," Megan quickly back-pedaled. "But Lupin was nice. Snape is brilliant and he really knows the subject and he's probably one of the most powerful wizards this side of, of… well, Dumbledore. But he's not nice."

The Slytherins all relaxed, mollified by the all-too-rare praise of their Head's teaching abilities. Tracey said, "Slytherins don't do nice."

"They do sometimes," said Hermione, drink making her reckless. Every eye turned toward her. "When there's a good enough reason."

Daphne smirked. "Granger, you really should have been one of us." It was Daphne who had originated Hermione's new Slytherin nickname.

Hermione shook her head. "Muggleborn, remember?"

"We have Muggleborns," said Tracey. "One in seventh year, two in fifth, and one each in fourth and third."

"That makes five," said Hermione. "Out of how many students?"

"We think the Hat stopped Sorting them into our House after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Sometimes we'll go a year without, but never two years in a row, until now." Tracey, too, was drunk enough to become careless. "I can name four Muggleborn Ravenclaws that should have been ours. And Half-bloods, too, including at least one in Gryffindor." She sounded resentful.

"Ravenclaw and Slytherin are Sister-Houses," said Lisa, "so it goes both ways. Theo Nott should have been a Raven; he told me the Hat really wanted to put him there but his father would have killed him if—"

"We'd better get moving if we want to beat curfew," Daphne spoke up, cutting Lisa off. "We're back round to Slytherin again, so next—"

Pansy stood up abruptly. "Greengrass, I'm running this meeting. I say who's next."

The whole group went silent. Daphne raised a single eyebrow. "So… who's next?"

"Who's next?" Pansy looked round vaguely; everyone was staring at her. She turned to Daphne and repeated, "Who's next?"

Daphne leaned forward and looked her directly in the eye. Using her best imitation of Snape's velvet whisper, she said, "You are."

"Oh!" Pansy sat down as abruptly as she had stood. "I am." She sat silently for a moment or two.

At last Hermione asked, "So who—"

"Lucius Malfoy," she said vaguely, drifting slightly to one side.

Lavender said, "He's not a teacher."

"But he's beautiful. Puts Draco to shame." The upper half of her body started falling forward in slow motion.

Millie jumped up, grabbing Pansy by the shoulders, knocking some of her contest supplies to the floor in the process. "There you go," she said, gently lowering the unconscious Pansy to the table.

Daphne picked up the fallen microphone and, saying _Revolate!_ flicked her wand; a glass jar that had contained slips of paper leaped back onto the table, the fallen bits of paper swirling back inside. She tapped the rim with her wand, then handed the jar back to Millie along with the microphone.

"Now," she said firmly, "it's Gryffindor's turn. Hermione." She leaned forward with a slightly-too-cheerful smile. "First crush on a teacher."

Hermione knew full well what she was thinking, but had no need to lie as she had about Viktor. Although she had already confessed to making a fool of herself over Lockheart, she didn't need to name a Hogwarts teacher at all.

"Mr Grantham," she said. "From Muggle school. My science teacher when I was ten."

"Muggle science?" said Mandy. "Like those computing machines and that Web thingy?"

Sally-Anne said, "That's technology. Science is the theory." She turned to Hermione. "I never had a decent science teacher in primary. I had to get everything I know from science fiction."

"I was lucky. Mr Grantham was inspired. Wore wire-rimmed glasses and his hair in a ponytail—probably in his forties. Kind of a science hippie." Hermione was caught up in her memories. "He taught us all the sciences, but you could tell chemistry was his favorite. When he demonstrated experiments for us it was like he was in love. I used to wish he'd look at me the way he did his test tubes and Bunsen burners."

"Sounds kinky," said Su.

Hermione chuckled. "Maybe it was." She gulped down her drink.

"Do you want to go next, Li?" Daphne asked.

"This is easy. Your Head of House, who else? The rest of you may have been drooling over Gilded-Boy back in second year, but _I_ was paying attention at that Dueling Club meeting. Nothing I'd ever read said a simple little _Expelliarmus_ could send someone flying across the room like that."

Lavender wrinkled up her face in confusion. "You like him because he casts a good _Expelliarmus?_"

"In a way," said Su. "If you don't get it, you'd better stick with Weasley."

Hermione understood perfectly. "It's the Kissinger Effect," she said.

"The kissing-_what_ effect?" Lavender asked.

"Never mind. Muggle reference."

* * *

**Saith Henry "Hook-Nose" Kissinger: Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.**

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Years later, Millie Bulstrode finally becomes an Animagus; her form is an egret._

_After the defeat of Voldemort, the Sorting Hat will go back to placing Muggleborns in Slytherin. Purebloods are always a majority in Slytherin, but have rarely dominated the House as fully as during the Death Eater years._

Revolate! =_ Fly back!_

_Re: Sister-Houses. Ravenclaw and Slytherin are the "Head" Houses, Houses of the intellect; Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are the "Heart" Houses, Houses of the emotions. They can also be cross-matched: Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are rule-followers while Slytherin and Gryffindor are rule-breakers. This makes Slytherin/Gryffindor combinations—in class, on the Quidditch pitch, or in the bedroom—highly volatile, likely to produce either spectacular disasters or great creative triumphs._


	6. Giving Head

**Chapter 6: Giving Head**

"Our final event of the evening is a test of imagination," said Daphne. "Giving teachers head."

Half the girls whooped, the others shuddered, and Aberforth winced at the very idea.

"I have in this jar—" Millie handed it to her. "—the names of all the male teachers at Hogwarts. _And_ a jar with the women's names for our lovely lesbians. Each of you will draw a name and describe how you would to give a blow job to your chosen teacher. Where, in what position, and what sounds he'll be making. Extra points for appropriateness and creativity. Tracey, you're first."

She held out the jar and Tracey drew a name. "Oh my God!" she said as she read it.

"Who do you have, Trace?" asked Millie.

"This one should be for you, Turpin." She held the slip of paper out to Lisa. "You said you like big blokes."

Lisa read the name. "There_ is _a limit, Davis," she said.

"Hagrid," Tracey told the others. Hermione burst out laughing. "Let's see… It'll happen in the Forbidden Forest."

"Kind of obvious," said Hermione.

"It's my story," said Tracey.

"Sorry."

"I tell him to get down on his knees."

"You should be able to reach him, then," Hermione said helpfully.

This time Tracey ignored her. "He's up against that huge spruce tree—the one near his cabin—with his hands tied above his head."

"I like this," said Daphne. "He's naked?"

"No!" Tracey said, disgusted. "I just open his pants. Then I get a big jar of honey and all pour it over his—"

"_Ewww!_" Lavender squealed. "And you lick it off him?"

"Of course not. I have Fang lick it off him."

The entire table full of girls exploded with laughter. "And the sound he makes?" Daphne asked.

"Fang? He barks, of course." said Tracey, straight-faced, and downed her drink.

"All right, Brown," said Daphne, still laughing. "You're next. Pick a name."

"Oh, no," Lavender pleaded. "I can't think of anything after that. It's too…"

Daphne held out the jar to Lavender. "Brown, we need a Gryffindor. You know, the ones with the _courage_?"

Her fellow Gryffindors gave Lavender no support. "It'll only get worse," said Parvati.

Hermione added, "Do you really want to wait until you have to go after Greengrass?"

Daphne looked at Hermione under her brows "Better than going after you, Granger." She shook the jar at Lavender.

Lavender drew out a slip of paper and read it. "Slughorn! I've never even taken a class from him!"

"It's all about imagination," Tracey said. "Make something up."

Lavender closed her eyes and nervously tapped on the table. "Slughorn, Slughorn, the big fat pig. Okay, I think I have something. It'll be in the Great Hall, during dinner. No, during breakfast. I'll have him lying on his back on one of the tables."

"Which table?" Daphne asked. "Yours or ours?"

"The head table."

The group murmured appreciatively and Lisa said "This looks good."

"And he's starkers," Lavender added defiantly, looking straight at the Slytherin girls.

"Starkers?" said Millie.

"Starkers," Lavender repeated. "Except for the apple in his mouth."

They all burst out laughing. Tracey said, "I didn't know you had it in you, Brown."

Lavender looked apologetic. "Well, the next part I stole from you. See, I get this big pitcher of maple syrup—"

The girls were no longer laughing, they were shrieking. Tracey had tears running down her face; she managed to force out a few words. "So where's—" She gasped for breath. "—where's the dog?"

"Oh!" Lavender sounded surprised. "But I've always just _loved_ maple syrup."

The noise woke Pansy from her drunken stupor. "Wha'd I miss?" she asked.

"Breakfast," said Hermione.

"'s all right, I'm not hungry." Pansy's head dropped back to the table.

They laughed, and Morag said, "Nobody else do anything with food, alright? It's vomit-making."

Daphne held out the jar to her. "You're next, then, McDougal. You must have a strong stomach, the way you zoom round on that Nimbus."

Morag pulled a name from the jar. "Bloody hell!" she said.

"What is it?" asked Mandy, leaning over to read the slip of paper. Her eyes went wide. "You have to blow our Head of House?"

"You'd better do a good job then," said Padma.

Morag thought a little. "Well, it needs to involve Quidditch."

"Everything's Quidditch with you," said Lisa; Morag gave her a look. "Well, it _is!_"

"Okay, Quidditch," said Morag, taking a deep breath. "Quidditch. It's the last match of the year and I've just caught the Snitch, and won Ravenclaw the Quidditch Cup."

"It _is_ a fantasy," said Tracey.

"On my victory lap—I know!—on my victory lap I pick up Flitwick from the stands and we fly to the exact center of the pitch."

"Oh no!" said Su Li, covering her face with her hands.

Millie said, "You're going to suck him off in front of the whole stadium?"

"I'm going to suck him off in front of the whole stadium."

"Position?" Daphne snapped off the question as if she were a teacher quizzing a student.

"Hovering a few meters above the ground. High enough to be seen, but not too high. I pull up his robe—"

Mandy said, "Underneath he's wearing—"

"Nothing." Morag shot back, and several girls went _Ooooooo!_ "I lift him up to mouth-level and lean back a bit."

"Lean back?" Hermione was puzzled.

"Don't want too much weight on the front of the broom. If it gets unbalanced we'll fall off."

"That's our Morag," said Su. "Always practical."

"And I suck him off right there on the broom in front of Dumbledore and everyone. And he giggles. Hysterically." She knocked back her shot.

Tracey said, "That'd almost be worth having the nerds win the Quidditch Cup."

"Give me the dyke-jar, Millie," Daphne said, and held it out to Susan.

Susan pulled out a name and read it. "Sorry, Mills." She held out the slip for Millie to read.

"Ohhh," said Millie. "I wanted McGonagall!"

"Better luck next time," said Mandy.

"McGonagall," Susan mused. "I think this one's going to have to involve bondage." She looked round the table at faces ranging from appalled to delighted. "It's not usually my cup of tea, but—"

She downed her drink. "I need this first," she explained. "McGonagall. In her office."

"On her desk," said Hermione.

Susan cocked an eyebrow. "Someone's been teaching you Legilimency, Hermione?" Hermione looked away, embarrassed. Susan continued, "Okay, I'm tied down on her desk, flat on my back, and she's riding my face." She paused and thought a moment. "Wearing that tartan dressing gown of hers."

"God, Sue," Millie almost moaned. "You're making me hot."

"You're making _me_ sick," said Parvati.

"You're going to get sicker. She has a whip, a riding crop—"

There was a chorus of "_Ewwww!_"

"—she's flicking me just lightly on my hip. And she says—" Susan spoke with a passable Scottish burr, "_You exceed expectations, Miss Bones, but you'll need to work harder to be Outstanding_."

The howls of laughter sent Aberforth's hands to his ears. Millie poured Susan another shot. "You deserve a double for that."

Daphne said, "Bulstrode, you're going to be masturbating to that fantasy for months." Millie blushed, but didn't deny it.

Lavender snatched up the jar and held it out to Daphne. "Slytherin's turn now."

Daphne looked for a moment as if this were not how she intended her turn to go, but she smiled graciously and plucked a slip from the jar. She appeared surprised but not displeased as she read it. "So…" She looked round at her audience with a confident smile. "Albus Dumbledore."

Su Li said, "Dumbledore? But isn't he…"

"That's just a rumor put about a long time ago by a wizard who had a grudge against him," Hermione said flatly. "I don't believe it for a minute."

"Believe what? asked Megan.

"That Dumbledore's gay," said Padma. "I don't think it's true, either."

"I'm sure it isn't," Hermione said.

Tracey said, "Even if it is, who cares who the old blighter fancies?"

Daphne put up her hand to stop the discussion. "It doesn't matter. Any man getting head from with me is straight while I'm doing him, no matter what he is the rest of the time."

There were several eye-rolls among the listeners, and Hermione said to Padma who was sitting beside her, "She and Malfoy were made for each other."

"Her little sister in Ravenclaw is worse," Padma answered.

Daphne ignored them, and considered her plan of attack. "Opening Night feast? No, we just had Slughorn in the Great Hall…" She stopped to think a moment. "Hermione, you've been in Dumbledore's office, haven't you? Is it true about the portraits?"

"You mean the former Headmasters and Headmistresses? Yes, I've never actually been there, but Harry has. He says they pretend to be asleep, but they don't miss much. Are they going to be your audience?"

"Smart girl," Daphne said. "The portraits are all pretending not to watch while I make him stand on his desk."

"Stand on his desk?" said Sally-Anne. "You are weird even for a Slytherin."

"Thank you, " Daphne replied. "He has to be on his desk because I don't want to have to bend down to reach him. I kneel to no one."

Hermione snorted and said to Padma, "Her sister is really worse?"

Daphne ignored them. "I make him strip except for his hat, his glasses, and those silly shoes. And I do him _slooowly,_ as if I'm licking one of those ridiculous Muggle candies of his."

"And what does he sound like?" Hermione asked.

"He whoops. In falsetto."

Howls of laughter broke from everyone in the room, except Aberforth, who stifled his to a mere cough.

Daphne knocked back her drink, then smiled her most Slytherinesque smile as she held the jar out to Hermione. "Think you can top that, Granger?"

Hermione pulled out a slip and was unsurprised at what she read. "Severus Snape," she said.

The reactions ranged from Pavarti's "Oh, Hermione, how awful!" to Si Li's "_Whoa_, sexy!"

"Where?" Daphne asked Hermione, her eyes glinting.

"His quarters," said Hermione without hesitation. "In bed, on his back, me between his legs."

"That's not special," said Morag.

"Special enough for me," Sally-Anne leaned forward, her eyes bright. "He is so _wicked_…"

"You're sick, Sally," said Hannah.

"No, she's not," said Su.

"The sound—" Daphne demanded, ignoring the others.

"I'll bet he's a screamer," Lisa said.

Hermione shook her head slightly and gazed into the distance. "Silence." she said, her voice emphatic but quiet. "Intense, focused, not a sound." She downed her drink, then looked back at her audience. "The way he does everything," she said lightly.

As laughter and talk ran round the table Hermione met Daphne's eyes. "Interesting the way that drawing turned out," she said.

"A lottery." Daphne shrugged. "It's random." She turned to say something to Millie.

Hermione knew she was going to have to do something. Rumors about Hermione herself would be merely embarrassing, but rumors about _him_—

Daphne was a Slytherin, so a mere hint should do it. But she had to do it now, while all the others were still talking amongst themselves.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Hermione focused herself as she had been taught. She knew she wasn't skilled enough to be truly subtle about it, but subtlety was not what she needed. Her whole purpose was for Daphne to realize what was going on.

She leaned across the table toward Daphne. "Greengrass," she said quietly.

Daphne turned and found herself staring directly into Hermione's eyes, barely six inches from her own.

Silently and without a wand, Hermione pushed her perception forward through those eyes, hard and fast, then just as quickly pulled back out. It didn't matter what she saw, only that Daphne knew she had seen _something_, and could potentially see more. It was also a reminder of what _he_ could do.

Daphne staggered back a step, jerking her eyes away. She recovered herself and looked back at Hermione cautiously.

"Secrets," Hermione deliberately refrained from looking directly at the other girl. "We all have them."

Daphne nodded. "Yes. I understand." She picked up the jar and briskly announced to the table, "Sally-Anne, you're next."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_As evidenced in canon, Hermione is willing to do just about anything if she considers the cause important enough. Care for a cup of blackmail, Miss Skeeter?_

_Prompt for this entire story, from my own brain: __**Silence. Intense, focused, not a sound. The way he does everything**__._

_Next, the Epilogue, featuring our beloved Potions Master in person (and in bed)._


	7. Epilogue

**Chapter 7: Epilogue**

"You really should have made up something fanciful the way the others did."

"I know, but I couldn't think of anything."

"The brightest witch of her age couldn't think of anything."

"Don't call me that!" She slapped his bare shoulder, then snuggled closer and kissed the slapped spot. "I was drunk, and all I could think about was last week."

"Is that why you decided to re-create the experience tonight?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all."

He buried his free hand in her hair, pulling her face to his for a long, gentle kiss. "Shall I return the favor?" he whispered in her ear. He didn't wait for an answer but began kissing his way down her body.

Afterwards she toyed with his hair as he rested his head on his crossed arms on her belly.

"You're the one who's a screamer," he said.

"In Gryffindor House we call it roaring."

He gave a slight smile in return. "By the way, what did you see in Miss Greengrass's mind?"

"Nothing I could blackmail her with."

He tried to give her a stern look, but couldn't quite manage. "What was it?"

"Us in bed, with her watching."

Severus grimaced. "That is one fantasy that is _not _going to come true."

"Yes, and she knows it." Hermione was silent for a while, then said, "You know, between spending time with you and going to these Girls' Night parties I think I'm finally starting to understand Slytherins. I always thought of the Slytherin girls as 'Pansy's Gang' but it's not like that at all."

"Miss Parkinson's 'gang' is mostly made up of younger girls, not her age-mates who know her best. Miss Bulstrode is her only faithful follower of her own age, and from what you tell me she appears to be trying to change her allegiance to Miss Greengrass without anyone noticing."

Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"She was their bartender," he said. "Had she been a loyal ally she would have been giving Miss Parkinson watered drinks the entire time. It was her failure to do so that gave Miss Greengrass her opening."

"Well, I can't say I blame her. Greengrass is certainly smarter than Parkinson."

"She also has more genuine leadership ability. I would have preferred to have appointed her Prefect last year, but the political situation made it impossible."

Hermione looked puzzled. "The political situation?"

He snorted with exasperation. "_Think_, Miss Granger," he said, almost as if they were in class. "What happened just before you began your fifth year?"

"Of course, the Dark Lord returned," she said. It somehow seemed natural—and certainly less childish—to say _the Dark Lord_ instead of _You-Know-Who_ when she was alone with Severus.

"Exactly. None of the girls has Death Eater parents, but the Parkinsons come closest, being allied with the Malfoys. Also, she and Miss Bulstrode were the only true purebloods available to me. Miss Greengrass has the requisite four magical grandparents, but the family as a whole has a great deal of muggle and muggleborn blood. Five years ago I might have chosen Miss Davis—I like to have at least one half-blood and one muggleborn prefect at all times—but with…" He paused, seeking a euphemism. "…outside events…being what they are, I was extremely limited as to my choices."

"It all seems so coldly political." Her tone was almost petulant.

Severus allowed one of his rare half-smiles to appear. "There is nothing cold about politics, my dear."

He sat up and moved to lie beside her. Taking her in his arms he lightly kissed her lips until she stopped pouting. "That's better," he said. "Besides, you know the saying: _Slytherin House is a political party_."

"Another old wizard saying I've never heard of!"

"It's one of the Aphorisms of the Four Houses. There's a whole book of them in the library; I thought you would have read it by now."

"I must have missed it."

"When you read the Aphorisms one after another you realize how trite and superficial they are, but individually they can give a certain insight."

"So what's this one about?"

"It's one of the longer sayings—a series of extended metaphors rather than an aphorism—so I won't bother you with the whole thing. The bare-bones version runs: _Hufflepuff House is a family; Ravenclaw House is a research academy; Gryffindor House is a band of adventurers; and Slytherin House is a political party_."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, that's you Snakes exactly! United in the face of the other Houses, but in-House everyone is jockeying for position. Girls' Night is one of the only times we outsiders have a chance to see it happen."

"It's good to see your Gryffindor mind is finally learned to pick up nuances." His voice was as sardonic as ever, but somehow playful as well.

Hermione's mind running with the metaphor. "And with the Headmaster and Deputy Head both Gryffindors, that makes you Leader of the Opposition. So the way you favor your House actually makes sense. Favoring your House is part of your job. But it's not part of Professor Dumbledore's, because he has to look out for the whole school."

"Unfortunately that is a consideration that has never stopped the Headmaster from cosseting his manly little Gryffindors."

_Manly little Gryffindors? __What on earth does_ that _mean?_ She opened her mouth to question him, but he silenced her with a long, deep, kiss.

_Yes, I am talking too much_, she thought as she gave him a little tug, guiding him over to lie on top of her. Although it had been his intellect that had first attracted her, she was still astonished at how much she loved his body, lean and strong and in the prime of life, with the Great Serpent of Slytherin pressing hard against her. At times like this she pushed aside all thoughts of danger and impropriety, and simply loved him while she had the chance.

As always, thoughts of danger and impropriety returned as they lay quietly together afterwards, as she caressed his chest and shoulders lightly, drawing out the last beats of pleasure.

Her expression had become serious. "Do you think I did the right thing?" she asked without preamble. "With the Legilimency, I mean? I thought I had to do something. She was getting too obvious. I mean, putting a spell on the lottery right in front of everyone."

"Your options were to do nothing and hope she has enough respect for me as her Head of House to remain silent, or to take firm action on the spot to compel her silence. You chose to take action. You reminded her forcefully of what you—and I—could do to retaliate should she speak out against us."

"Too much Gryffindor courage again," she said. "Always acting instead of thinking."

"I wouldn't say that. It was a risk either way," he answered. "When a risk is necessary one must take it. The famous Gryffindor courage seems to consist of taking any risk, no matter what the circumstances, but we Slytherins never take an unnecessary risk. Only the necessary ones."

Necessary risk. It was a concept that she had been trying to get across to Harry, inarticulately, ever since their first year. Severus lived with it, every day, and members of her House called him a coward because of it.

He was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor; that meant he was cursed. Whether crippled or disgraced, imprisoned or dead, he would be gone by June at latest. Hermione knew there was no other circumstance under which he would allow himself anything so shameful—or so risky—as an affair with a student, even one who was of age. It was clear he expected to die, if not this spring then soon thereafter. A necessary risk, he would call it, and refuse to discuss it further.

He was so strong, yet beneath his strength, so desolate. She could not refuse him comfort when he had so little and needed so much. Yet if what she felt for him was more than pity and respect, she had to do better for him than merely offer comfort.

At that moment, Hermione made herself a promise, one she knew Severus himself would sneer at as absurdly Gryffindorish. _I swear, Severus Snape will not die. Not if I have anything to say about it_.

More than a year later, in a shack outside Hogsmeade, Hermione defied fate and kept her promise.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_In the Potterverse, Fate = JKR._

_In any sort of serious story, an affair with a student—especially during his dangerous year as DADA professor—is exactly the kind of insane risk that no Slytherin double agent worth his green-and-silver knitted scarf would take. I trust I don't have to point out that this is not a serious story._

_Is anyone interested in the full "extended metaphor" of the Four Houses? I can polish it up and include it as an appendix next week if there is any interest._


	8. Appendix: Aphorisms

**Appendix: In Which Miss Greengrass Explains Things to Miss Granger**

Gryffindor House is a band of adventurers. Your Head of House is your captain. She handles large-scale strategy and sends you off on your quests, but otherwise she leaves you pretty much alone. Your housemates are your comrades in arms. You watch each other's backs in a fight, but you're heroes, not soldiers. You don't follow orders properly and you don't maintain military discipline, so you're vulnerable to well-organized opposition. Everyone admires you, but no one counts on you in a pinch.

Hufflepuff House is a family. Their Head of House is their mother, who loves and supports them all. Even when the Head is a man, he's the mother. The housemates are siblings; they'll always support one another no matter what, but they quarrel among themselves and compete for their mother's attention. Everyone relies on them but no one notices them except when they're being annoying.

Ravenclaw House is a research academy. The Head of House is the director; he guides the research and makes sure everyone follows proper methodology. The housemates are colleagues. They love to share information and ideas, but they want credit for their own work. They're always watching one another for plagiarism and wrangling over tiny details. Everyone respects them and recognizes their usefulness, but no one likes them much.

Slytherin House is a political party. Our Head of House is the leader of the party; he sets policy, but he can't really go against the over-all consensus of the House. Our housemates are our fellow party members. In the face of our opponents we keep party discipline. Our number one rule is, "Thou shalt not speak ill of a fellow Slytherin." The rule doesn't apply in-house, though. There, we're always working for our own advantage and trading favors. We don't have friends, we have allies; we don't have enemies, we have opponents; and the alliances are always shifting. Everyone is suspicious of us, but they come to us to do the dirty work that really has to be done and no one else will touch. We do it, no matter what it takes, and no one thanks us for it, or thinks to repay the favor when we're the ones who need help.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I wrote this some months ago to be a part of "Hermione Granger and the House of Slytherin", a story still in the planning stages. If that story is ever written, Miss Granger of Slytherin will be Explaining Things to Mr Potter of Gryffindor in the Hospital Wing after an incident in which a misplaced troll is dispatched by a couple of quick_ Sectumsempra_s from Hermione's Head of House. Don't expect it soon. I don't even have a full outline yet, and the spirit of Mr. Gilbert will not permit me to write on the fly. Everything must be completed and polished before the first chapter appears. My apologies, but one does not argue with Mr. Gilbert on such matters._


End file.
